


Cruel, Cruel World (To Face on Your Own)

by Aenaria



Series: Cruel, Cruel World (To Face on Your Own) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, F/M, Friends to Lovers, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Threesome - F/M/M, but not really, there's a hint of a plot somewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The emotions, the feelings are there.  They’ve always been there, but the time has never been quite right.  But after a mission goes bad, and Darcy, Steve, and Bucky take a little recovery time at a quiet, seaside cottage…well, they weren’t expecting it, but it’s not like they didn’t see this coming.</p><p>(And then they did the sex.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel, Cruel World (To Face on Your Own)

**Author's Note:**

> Can I blame Tumblr for this one? I feel like I should, because I know they egged me on (and gave me an excuse to share some great inspirational posts). Yet again, this is another story that should have been shorter...but it kind of got out of hand. Oops.
> 
> Thanks to Meri and Jadecharmer for hand-holding, cheering, beta work on the story, and saving my sanity in general.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The wind whistles past the darkened ferry windows as it makes its journey toward Block Island. Even though Darcy's safely inside the cabin she can still feel the cold seeping into her, feel the damp sea spray and rain on her clothes and on her skin. So she pulls her feet up onto her seat and wraps her arms around her knees, trying to keep as much warmth inside her as possible.

 

It's not a vacation, not really. Steve had called her up barely twenty-four hours prior asking for her help, and who was she to deny her boys what little comfort she could offer?

 

Well, they're not really her boys, Steve and Bucky. It's an interesting dance of a relationship they have, of constant flirting and friendly, intimate touches that never quite go as far as they could. Some days she's sure Steve just wants to lunge across that couch of his and pin either Bucky or her right down onto it until someone's gasping for air in the best way possible. Or her hands will end up on Bucky's bare back while she patches up some small battle scratch as Steve hands her a piece of gauze to tape over it. At that moment, it would be just the easiest thing to slide her hands down to his waist and even lower, watching how he stretches under her hands. Other times they act as if they’re the world's biggest children, playing like innocent little ones trying to fight the darkness with laughter. Sometimes they’re bratty teenagers, spending hours playing mock races and battles on Darcy's old video game console which had migrated over to the boys' place and made itself at home there as they call each other every nasty name in the book in the spirit of good fun. She doesn’t like to admit just how many nights she’s spent sleeping on their couch, which isn’t even all that comfortable, instead of her lonely, little studio out in the far end of Queens.

 

And when they're not at work either saving the world or saving science, the three of them practically live in each other's pockets. Darcy's a great impromptu guide for the subtle nuances of the 21st century that Steve and Bucky haven't quite figured out yet – they’re good, but there are some things that elude her. The boys somehow manage to bring her back down to earth after spending too much time amongst the stars with Jane. It's a fine, delicate balance of a relationship that they've got going, one that doesn't make much sense to anyone else but them, and they’ve found that it totally works.

 

There's always...something else, something more between the three of them. That the whole sum of the parts is far better than the individual components. They're not there yet, though.

 

But someday (someday soon, a little voice in her head whispers) someone's going to break, Darcy knows. And when that happens? It's going to be a whole new world.

 

She can't think about that right now, though. There's a potential crisis brewing, and she needs to focus on making sure her boys come back from that happy and whole.

 

\----------

 

The sky's fully dark by the time the ferry arrives at New Shoreham, and the rain and wind has kicked up enough to make Darcy more than uncomfortable as she stands outside the port to pick up her taxi. The rain seeps in through her knit cap and while her coat blocks the worst of the weather, she's still feeling really uncomfortable. And wet. And cold.

 

"The things I do for you two," Darcy mutters through chattering teeth and shivering lips just as a taxi pulls up to the curb.

 

The island is small, not even ten miles by five miles, yet the ride feels interminable as the taxi drives north to a more sparsely populated area. Street lights are few and far between, and Darcy watches silently out the window as the taxi’s high beams illuminate what looks like scrubby, rolling hills with long grasses that are buffeted about by the wind and rain as they pass by. Eventually the SUV pulls onto what she’s sure is a dirt road given how much the ride’s bumping around, taking her even deeper into the middle of nowhere.

 

The SUV pulls into a driveway paved with bits of crushed seashells, getting her as close to the small cottage as possible. Through the rain Darcy can make out the squared off structure, covered in weather-worn wooden shingles and white trim and shutters. There’s a small porch that leads up to a front door that’s painted in a matching bright white, and the light next to the door blazes on, providing some much needed illumination in the dark night. Huddled up against the porch is a large, tarp-covered lump which Darcy is certain covers up two motorcycles that have no doubt been as weatherproofed as possible.

 

She pays the driver, says her thanks, then grabs her duffle bag and runs up the stairs to the covered porch. Even though the run’s only a few seconds, Darcy gets soaked practically to the bone again, cursing as rain slides under the collar of her coat and down her neck. Once under the safety of the cozy overhang she stamps her boots against the wooden floorboards, trying and failing to get as much water out of her feet as possible. Her hand reaches out to hit the doorbell, but the door swings open to reveal Steve, standing there with what can only be described as a look of relief on his face.

 

“You’re soaked,” he says by way of greeting, his warm hand landing on Darcy’s shoulder. “Let’s get you inside.” Steve pulls her in and locks the door behind her, leaving her standing dripping on the welcome mat. The main floor of the cottage is decently sized, but it’s just the one room – kitchen counters and appliances on the left side, couches and a crackling fireplace on the right, and divided down the center by a staircase that leads up to the second floor under a sloping roof. The back wall is mostly windows where it’s all too easy to see the pouring rain outside, and a large dining table is set up in front of it.

 

Darcy turns her eyes back to Steve and finally gets a good look at him. He’s wearing a Henley that looks like it’s seen better days, jeans, messed up hair, and it’s apparent he hasn’t shaved for a while given the amount of stubble he’s sporting. Normally he likes to look a bit more put-together than that, even when relaxing at home, so something must be up.

 

“All I want to do is dry off and put my pajamas on,” Darcy says, dropping the duffle bag on the floor next to her with a wet thud. “But what happened?” she asks as Steve moves around her to help peel off her wet jacket. “I couldn’t really tell much from the phone call.” But it wasn’t a hard decision to rearrange her schedule to go help them out – especially since Jane seemed to have an inkling that something hadn’t been right thanks to some information she’d weaseled out of Thor and was able to give her a few days off on such short notice.

 

Steve’s hands land heavy on her shoulders, warm even through the wet fabric. “It wasn’t a good mission. We succeeded, but…” He trails off, holding onto her tightly.

 

“Where’s Bucky?” Darcy asks next, reaching up to squeeze his hands.

 

“On the couch, asleep. I would have woken him up when I saw the car pull up, but neither one of us has been sleeping all that well. I didn’t have the heart to disturb him.” She turns around and sees the tightness around Steve’s eyes, the faint dark circles that are lingering below them.

 

"All right," she says, nodding once. "Where's the bathroom?"

 

"Upstairs, end of the hall."

 

Darcy drops her duffel bag on the floor and pulls out some yoga pants, a chunky sweater on just the right side of ugly, fuzzy socks, and a tank top. Comfort is key, she thinks, and once she gets comfortable she doesn't plan on getting back into real clothing anytime soon. Five minutes later she's back downstairs, feeling much drier and much warmer. Steve’s rattling around in the kitchen doing something, and she can just make out Bucky’s dark head over the back of the couch. So she shuffles around the couch in her stocking feet, skidding to a stop and toppling over next to him. “Hey, you,” she says, as Bucky turns to her with vaguely amused eyes.

 

“Hi,” he says, tipping his head so that it rests against the back of the couch. He looks just as scruffy as Steve does, even though Bucky’s never been as fastidious with his looks. His longish hair at least looks like it’s been washed in the couple of days they’ve been at the cottage, which is something, at least. He’s got a blanket draped around his shoulders and he hunches down into it, like he’s trying to either make himself smaller or keep as much body heat in as possible.

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Darcy asks.

 

Bucky snorts. “Not particularly.”

 

“I had to try.”

 

Any further conversation is put to a halt by Steve coming over to the couch, hands full with a tray that’s got some bowls, a loaf of warmed bread, a pot of something that makes Darcy’s mouth water, and three bottles of beer. Although really, any food that wasn’t prepackaged would smell amazing to her right now, considering that she’s spent most of the day traveling and Amtrak’s Cafe Cars aren’t exactly known for their cuisine. “Aw, you cooked,” Darcy says, reaching out as if to grab the food right out of his hands.

 

The conversation is further postponed while they eat, tucking into the stew that’s been in the works for most of the afternoon. It’s warm, rich, and hearty, and hits the spot perfectly for Darcy. But even that doesn’t last, and soon the three of them are tucked up on the couch, huddling in a pile under the blanket with Bucky in the middle. There’s some soft music playing in the background, wordless melodies that aren’t jarring or clashing. The idea is peace, Darcy thinks, and she can tell Steve’s been trying his hardest to make sure everything’s comfortable for Bucky.

 

Darcy rests her head against Bucky’s shoulder, and she can feel Steve’s arm wrap around him, the fingers just brushing up against her back. Sometimes a touch is all that can be offered, and sometimes it’s also the best thing possible. The logs crackle away in the fireplace, providing even more warmth. “They were just kids,” Bucky says eventually. “These assholes had brainwashed the kids, trying to turn them into perfect little soldiers. But they weren’t even good at it. At least the Red Room knew how to teach their spies how to survive.”

 

“They kept trying to break the programming,” Steve says quietly. “They were strong. But some of them were stronger…and then they started taking each other out.”

 

Darcy inhales sharply. “Shit.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

 

“We tried to save as many as we could,” Bucky continues, staring off into the fire, “but not enough. Too many of them were left on the floor in that warehouse.” He shakes his head. “I thought I left this shit behind, but no. Bastards like that always keep coming back.”

 

She’s not quite sure what to say to that, and there’s the feeling that no words she can say would be comforting enough. So instead Darcy wraps her arm around Bucky’s stomach and hugs him tight, hoping that he can get the message that way.

 

“You know what we need?” Darcy says.

 

“What?”

 

“A slumber party.”

 

Steve’s look is puzzled, while Bucky’s can only be described as wary. “Seriously,” Darcy continues, sitting up so she can look at them directly. “Bad movies, junk food, and staying up really late in our sleeping bags.” It’s not much, not in the grand scheme of everything that happened to them, but it’s what she can offer.

 

“I think we have some cookies,” Steve says hesitantly, but Darcy can tell he’s coming around to the idea. Steve’s always been a fan of cuddles, even if he doesn’t like to admit it, admit how much he needs that physical contact. Darcy knows full well a slumber party is pretty much the perfect excuse for that.

 

Bucky’s wary stare is quickly turned over to Steve, who just shrugs. “The couch does pull out too,” Steve continues, and Darcy chimes in with an eager nod.

 

“We can watch really bad action movies and not have to think for the rest of the night.”

 

Hours later, as the wind and rain rage on outside, the three of them are fast asleep on the pull out bed, curled up into a pile with Bucky safely between them, as if the perils and pain of the outer world can't get to them there. But not everything’s as still as it should be. The bed shifts just enough to rouse Darcy, and the sharp breathing is enough to tell her one of the boys is awake. She pries her eyes open blearily, blinking in the light of the muted television. The fire still crackles away merrily behind the grate, making it toasty warm in the room. Out of the corner of her eye she can see the rain splatter against the back windows of the cottage, but the warm, heavy weight against her front makes the rain seem far, far away. Bucky’s sound asleep, his back to her chest, and one of her arms is wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.

 

On the other side of Bucky Steve’s sitting upright, one hand rubbing wearily at his face. And god, does he look worn and tired. Maybe he doesn’t want anyone else to notice, but it’s clear to her that he was affected just as much as Bucky with this nightmare of a mission. “Bad dreams?” she asks softly, trying not to startle him any more than he already has been.

 

Steve glances her way, face solemn but otherwise unreadable. Then he shakes his head, staring at the fireplace once more. “I just…can’t relax.”

 

Darcy smiles grimly. She can’t say she’s been in exactly the same situation, but she knows the two of them and their reactions all too well. So she shuffles about until she’s propped up against the back of the couch, moving Bucky’s head so that it’s pillowed against her stomach. He must be exhausted too, she thinks, if he’s not waking up with all of her moving around. But he also must trust her enough to feel safe there, and that’s never something to take lightly. “Which in Steve-speak means that you’re feeling guilty as all hell over things you can’t control – again, mind you – and you can’t rest because you can’t shut your brain up.”

 

Steve shakes his head, grinning just slightly, and sits back next to Darcy. Their sides brush together, and Steve is careful to angle his legs so that they leave enough space for Bucky. “I’m not that bad.”

 

“Uh, you totally are.”

 

He huffs again, but doesn’t disagree with her. “I just wish there was more we could do, you know?”

 

“I do. But I also like to focus on the small victories and that all of our guys made it out alive.” She runs a careful hand through Bucky’s hair, and looks up at Steve. “Really glad you two came home, too. You’re not invulnerable. And I…” Darcy takes a deep breath, then shakes her head sharply. “Sorry.” She continues even as she feels Steve’s hand land on her lower back. “I can up here to help you out and now I’m unloading on you. Not such a great plan, that.”

 

“Hey.” His palm rubs back and forth, and it’s warm even through her sweater. “It’s not whether you…help or not,” Steve says. “We just wanted you here.”

 

“That, I can do.”

 

She feels more than hears Steve sigh, and his head leans against hers. “Whatever this is, whatever the three of us have…it’s not usual, even for this time, is it?”

 

“Nope,” Darcy says. And frankly, it’s gotten to the point where she’s not even trying to explain it anymore, because it seems like trying to define things just makes it even more complicated. “But it works for us, so why screw with perfection?” She turns her head, pressing her nose against his shoulder. The thought of moving away, of putting some distance between them doesn’t even occur to her. She’s warm and comfortable and safe; why the hell would she want to give that up? She glances upwards only to find Steve staring down at her. Now, she really can’t place that look in his eyes, but it’s intent and directed right at her. “What?”

 

Steve’s mouth opens once, then he snaps it back closed again with a quick nod. “I was always better with action than words,” he mumbles. And before Darcy can even figure out what he means by that Steve closes the small gap between them and kisses her firmly. Her mouth drops open and his tongue brushes against hers, which is the point when Darcy’s brain pretty much cuts out on her and her eyes fall closed. She sees what he means about action, because there’s no hesitancy or lack of confidence the way his mouth moves with hers. Darcy knows that little moan she’s hearing is coming right from her mouth, and her hand tightens in Bucky’s hair, keeping him close to her stomach. When Steve’s hand slides over hers, then stroking down the side of Bucky’s face, it’s like all of the pieces that have been whirling around for ages finally click into place.

 

“Is this a thing we’re doin’ now?”

 

Darcy starts to grin at that, and she can feel that Steve’s mirroring her expression. They pull apart slowly, and look down at Bucky who’s staring up at them with what can only be called a shit-eating grin on his face. “What do you think we’re doing?” Darcy asks.

 

“I think if you have to ask then Steve’s not doing something right,” Bucky says.

 

Steve shakes his head at that one. “How long you been awake?”

 

“Long enough to see you finally do what I think we’ve all been dancing around for a while.”

 

“Jerk,” Steve huffs, though the affection is clear. Then, he cups Bucky’s cheek with the hand that’s still on his head, and leans down to kiss him also, firmly and deeply.

 

If it were any other two people involved Darcy knows she’d probably be jealous, would want to rage against it. But these are _her boys_ , right there with her, and watching them kiss like they are just fills her with affection.

 

And it turns her on. She’s not above admitting that, not at all.

 

“Hey, when’s it my turn?” she asks, tugging lightly on Bucky’s hair.

 

Steve pulls back first, looking down at Bucky with an arched eyebrow. “Who am I to deny the lady what she wants?”

 

“Damn straight,” Darcy says, leaning down and taking up where Steve left off.

 

They both kiss differently, she notes. They’re both confident in what they’re doing, but there’s an aggression in Bucky that isn’t there in Steve. More experience possibly, she wonders, thinking of what he could have done in his years being the Winter Soldier. Even if he doesn’t remember all of it clearly, his body might. Muscle memory is a hard thing to shake. And when his tongue does that thing against her lower lip that makes Darcy shiver pleasantly, it’s obvious he’s got skills. Steve’s not hesitant, not by far, but there’s the feeling there that he’s not taking anything for granted, like he’s remembering the time when none of this came easily for him and he wants to make the absolute most of it now.

 

She’s breathing heavy by the time Bucky pulls away, like she’s just run a marathon through rugged territory. It’s all Darcy can do to slump against the back of the couch, watching through suddenly hazy eyes as Bucky sits up and spins around to face them. This is huge, monumental even, and she feels like she needs to say something, anything to fill the room with a sound other than harsh breaths. They should probably talk about this – as right as everything is words can only help.

 

But it looks like Bucky’s got thoughts of his own. He leans in close to Steve, pointing at his neck. “You know, that thing right there, those birthmarks,” he says, trailing off and making Darcy bite her lip as she waits for his next move.

 

“What about my birthmarks?”

 

“They’re kinda fascinating.” With that Bucky leans forward and presses his open mouth to Steve’s neck, sucking hard enough that Darcy can see it even from where she’s sitting. Steve inhales sharply and his head falls back, giving Bucky more than enough room to work. Darcy mentally debates whether she should join in the fun, because that stretch of skin is more than fascinating and she really wouldn’t mind getting her lips on it, when Bucky makes the decision for her.

 

His face is still buried in Steve’s neck, but his right hand reaches out and wraps around Darcy’s wrist. He pulls her forward, sending her up onto her knees, until he’s able to encircle her waist with his arm and bring her flush against the two of them. If that’s not explicit permission she doesn’t know what is.

 

She slides her hand down Bucky’s back, feeling the play of muscle underneath her fingertips and how smoothly it moves with every minute shift of his body. The other hand weaves through Steve’s hair, lightly scratching her nails against his scalp, which results in a bitten off groan as he squirms against the two of them. When Bucky moves back up to kiss him again, Darcy takes her own turn with Steve’s neck.

 

She’s determined to leave her mark, even if the bruises will heal up far faster than she’d like. He tastes…clean, like soap and sweat and skin. Darcy can feel him swallow beneath her lips, and grins against his neck. While she does her free hand runs up Bucky’s arm, working its way up from the elbow and sliding under his sleeve to feel the muscle there.

 

Not long after Bucky pulls away, breathing deeply as he sits back on his haunches and stares at the other two. “That was fun,” he says, smirking like he knows something the rest of them don’t.

 

Darcy shoots him a look with as much suspicion as she can muster (her brain’s a little preoccupied at the moment for all good reasons). “He’s planning something,” she mutters, making the smirk just grow wider. But then she turns her face up to Steve, changing the look to something wide-eyed and innocent even though all of them know that’s the last thing she is. “Aren’t we supposed to be taking care of him?” she asks.

 

Steve nods, turning equally innocent and wide eyes back to Bucky. “I do believe that is the whole point of this getaway.”

 

It’s a masterwork of movement, how Steve gets Bucky pulled up flush against him, back to chest with just a few minimal actions. “This part of your plan?” Bucky asks, even though he’s not at all complaining about his current predicament.

 

“I think it’s a good one,” Darcy says, moving down towards the end of the bed. She’s got her own thoughts on the plan; and she begins to play with the waistband of Bucky’s pajama pants. “Let us take care of you,” she says, face earnest and open. She’s got nothing to hide, and wants them to see everything she’s feeling in this moment.

 

Bucky’s still and tense for a second, but then he nods, once, and reclines against Steve’s chest. Steve’s hands slide against his stomach, rucking up his shirt until they spread broad and warm on bare skin. Bucky’s eyes fall closed and Steve presses a gentle kiss to his temple. Seeing that everything’s clear, Darcy carefully pulls his pajama pants and boxers off, dropping them over the side of the bed.

 

She strokes her hands up his legs, feeling hair crinkle against her palms as she takes in the sight before her. Bucky’s all lean muscle, not as bulky as Steve but just as strong. And obviously aroused, which is just what she’s hoping for. Really, there’s no reason to hesitate at all. Darcy stretches herself out, leaning down to nuzzle his cock and take in the scent of him.

 

Bucky gasps and surges upward, the only thing keeping him even remotely in place being Steve’s firm grip. Darcy smiles against his skin, flicking her eyes upward to take in Bucky’s heaving chest and Steve’s glazed look. Before either one of them has a chance to recover she takes his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip.

 

“Shit,” Bucky hisses through clenched teeth, arching back into Steve once more.

 

There’s power in this act, Darcy thinks as she sucks and licks up and down his length. To be able to take someone apart with just her mouth and a few touches of her hands. Reduce them to tears or send them flying upwards into the heavens. And the knowledge that she _wants_ to do this for him – for _them_ – makes the feeling all the more potent. She doesn’t have to do this, but it’s her choice, and she wants to give this to them.

 

She curls her hand around the base as she pulls away with a long, slow lick. Her hand moves up, thumb collecting the seeping liquid and smoothing it back into his skin. It’s this last move that makes Bucky grip the sheets so hard with his metal hand that they can hear the sheets rip as he tears a hole in them.

 

Steve’s managed to get both their shirts off by now. Darcy’s a slight bit disappointed that she missed that even though, to be fair, she has been focused on other, equally as fun, tasks. It’s entrancing to see them lounging there, skin to skin. Bucky looks tense and flush with arousal in the best way possible. And Steve…Darcy can’t quite define it, but there’s almost something hungry in his face. Before Darcy can even think she blurts out, “Hey, Steve, get down here.”

 

It takes his brain a second to catch up with her request, but when it does he carefully places Bucky down on the bed and moves to where Darcy is kneeling between his legs. “You ever do this before?” she asks quietly, inquisitively, as she pumps her hand up and down Bucky’s cock.

 

The grin Steve gives her is positively filthy, making her insides clench up. “I’m a quick learner,” he says, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “I think I can figure it out.” His hand enfolds hers, joining in the stroking.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky spits out, fading off into a moan. His back’s bowed off the bed now, thrusting his hips into their combined grip. All Steve does in response is bend over and take Bucky’s cock between his lips, sucking lightly and brushing against Darcy’s hand in the process.

 

And if Darcy thought she was turned on before, that feeling pales to what’s rushing through her veins right now. Suddenly it’s like her shirt is stifling her, like she can’t stand the feel of the fabric on her skin anymore, otherwise it’s going to choke her. She pulls her arms out of the ugly sweater and yanks the tank top over her head. Darcy’s thankful she got rid of the bra earlier in the night as she tosses them aside. Exhaling with relief, the warmth of the fireplace begins to soak into her bare skin. Everything is overly sensitive for her, the prickles of the distant fire, the way her tangled hair brushes against her shoulders, the way Bucky’s gaze practically burns into her as they land on her newly bared breasts.

 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, dollface,” he says, raking his eyes over her figure. Then he looks over to where Steve is still sucking him down like there’s no tomorrow, cheeks hollowing out with every bob of his head. “Him, too.”

 

Steve pauses in his motions to look up at him, eyes sparking with some hidden mirth. He squeezes the base of his cock once, firmly, which makes Bucky’s hips reflexively jerk once more. His head falls back against the couch cushions, and all Darcy can think is she wants to see him come apart at the seams. So she leans down to join Steve in his ministrations, nudging her nose against his lips.

 

It takes a second for Steve to cotton onto what she’s thinking, but once he does he readjusts, switching to fingers and tongue and granting space for Darcy’s tongue to join in the fun. And god, is it unlike anything else she’s experienced in her entire life. Bucky’s solid and firm under her tongue, salt and skin filling up her senses. Every few passes her tongue brushes up against Steve’s tongue, flexible and wicked (and my god what would that feel like on _her_?), collecting more of the precome and spreading it out over Bucky’s overly sensitive skin. Steve’s large hand spreads out over his pelvis, keeping his hips firmly down on the bed so that they don’t distract the other two from what they’re doing. Darcy can’t help but run a hand over Steve’s bare back, feeling just how his muscles flex and stretch with the smallest movements, and vaguely wonders just where this sudden obsession with their backs came from.

 

The thought of what either of their backs would look like between her legs, calves propped on strong shoulders, is an appealing one and must be explored further. Soon, she hopes.

 

It doesn’t take long of this at all before Bucky comes with a shout and a string of profanity, spilling over hands and skin and warm mouths. When he’s finished, they clean him up with tongues and lips, removing every trace of fluid.

 

Steve pulls away first, eyes wild, hair mussed, and bare chest heaving like he can’t quite get his breathing under control. He’s got to be aching, Darcy thinks from where her head is pillowed on Bucky’s hip, and it’s all too clear that Steve’s about to bust out of his jeans, cock straining against the thick denim fabric. Goddamn, is it a good look for him. But there’s something…

 

There’s a little bit of Bucky’s come smeared across Steve’s lower lip, pearly white against lush pink. And there’s no way in hell Darcy can pass up that tempting offer.

 

She pushes herself to her knees and reaches out, taking Steve’s head in her hands and pulling him over. Darcy glides her tongue against his lower lip, picking up the droplets with a decadent groan. Steve’s hands fold around her hips and pull them into his, his cock pressing against her insistently.

 

A slight groan, so slight it’s barely heard, from Bucky pulls them out of it. Steve looks over his way, then huffs lightly. “I think we broke him,” he mutters, nudging Darcy to take a look as well. She can’t disagree with this assessment as Bucky looks glazed, dazed, exhausted, fucked out, and more than pleased. “You okay, Buck?” he calls out, smirking.

 

Bucky just raises his arm, waves it limply, and lets it fall to the bed again.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Darcy says. She turns back to Steve, fingers playing with his belt buckle. She can feel the heat coming off of him, and she soaks it in, warming her to the core. “How about you?” She smiles up at him, running her fingertips over the hard bulge in his pants. “I think it’s your turn next.”

 

Steve hums thoughtfully, rubbing his hands up her sides. “Maybe,” he says. “But I think you’re forgetting one thing.”

 

Without warning Darcy finds herself in the air; the next second she’s on her back resting in the cushions next to Bucky. “We take care of each other,” Steve finishes, looming over her. He bends down then, giving her a kiss that’s forceful and strong and makes her brain fly right out the window.

 

If it was anyone else, she’d be embarrassed about how quickly their pants and underwear come off. But this is Steve between her legs and Bucky’s a warm presence up against her left side and really, they’ve been headed toward this for ages now. Fast is the last word that would apply to their relationship. And the feeling of being surrounded by all that warm skin, on top of her and next to her, is an intoxicating one. So Darcy pulls Steve closer and wiggles nearer to the still mellowed out Bucky. She digs her nails into Steve’s shoulders and rubs her slit against his cock, knowing that it would only take the simplest of moves for him to slide right inside her.

 

But instead Steve pulls away, gathering what threads of sense he has left together. “Rubber,” he says, kind of breathlessly.

 

“What?” Darcy asks, not quite following his line of thought.

 

“We need a rubber before we start,” Steve says.

 

“Ohhh. D’you have one?”

 

Steve shakes his head. “No. You?”

 

Darcy shakes her head no also, and shrugs as much as she can from her prone position. “I didn’t come up here with the intent of getting laid; I’m not exactly prepared.”

 

“Shit.”

 

Bucky groans next to them, and reaches out to smack Steve on the shoulder. “M’wallet’s on the counter; there’s one in there. Don’t waste it.”

 

“Yeah.” With that, Steve rolls off the bed and runs for the counter, leaving Darcy to snuggle into Bucky’s side for warmth. She’s not sure if she’s got a lingering chill in her bones from earlier, but she suspects that she’s just using it as an excuse.

 

“That was awfully noble of you,” she says, idly listening to the sounds of Steve mucking about in the kitchen.

 

Bucky just snorts and looks down at himself with a wry glance. “I’m pretty sure you guys sucked my brain out before, Darcy. I ain’t going anywhere right now.” He shrugs, and looks over at her with a wicked grin. “’Sides, I can be patient if I have to. There’s a drugstore in town; tomorrow we can stock up on condoms and lube. Lots of lube.”

 

Darcy waggles her eyebrows at him. “You know the mechanics of sex with another man then?”

 

“The Winter Soldier has had a variety of experiences throughout the years.”

 

“So that’s a yes, then.”

 

Bucky twists to the side, sinking his teeth into her earlobe and making her eyes flutter shut. “Just think of all the different ways the three of us can fit together,” he says, right into her ear.

 

The moan she lets out is loud enough to be heard throughout the entire first floor, and Darcy’s almost certain it’s the siren’s call that lures Steve back to the bed, condom packet in hand. He pauses at the end of the bed, looking down at the other two and obviously thinking something, but Darcy can’t tell what. He gives Bucky a crisp nod though, and she can feel him grin against her ear.

 

“All right, what are you two do – “ Her words are cut off when Bucky twists her slightly in place, rearranging her so that her back’s flush against his front. The metal hand sweeps up and covers her left breast, cool enough to make her skin tingle and her nipple tighten under his touch. “Mmm, okay,” she sighs, settling back against him and letting her eyes fall shut.

 

She can feel Steve crawl back onto the bed and hover over her and Bucky. She hears the boys kiss, right by her ear. Their guttural groans practically echo into Darcy’s skin, and make her squirm in Bucky’s grip. Then the lips are on hers – Steve’s again – and she twines her arms around his neck. Still kissing, Steve shifts back in front of her, skin sliding along hers. Darcy presses herself even closer, relishing the way he feels against her and how the solid presence of Bucky behind her makes her feel fully surrounded. Even if she had wanted to, which she doesn’t, she’s unable to move anywhere and that’s perfectly fine with her.

 

Two sets of hands sweep all over her body, stroking and gliding until Darcy isn’t even sure which way is up anymore. There’s a small crinkling noise – the sound of the condom packet opening, her dazed brain registers. She opens her eyes slowly only to find Steve’s face a scant few inches away from hers, pupils blown wide and lips slick.

 

“You ready?” he asks, hiking her leg over his hip. It’s all too easy to feel how turned on he is this way, hard cock brushing against her slick lips though not sliding inside, not yet. He’s waiting for her, she realizes dazedly.

 

“Yeah,” Darcy replies, nudging her nose against Steve’s just because she can. When he slides fully inside she muffles her gasp against his jaw, the stubble tickling her lips just so. She feels…full, in the best way possible. Steve’s a stretch but there’s a rightness there, like he was designed to work perfectly with her. She wonders if Bucky’s the same way; and thinks that she’s going to have to do a compare/contrast thing in the morning.

 

Darcy’s practically ready to fly out of her skin, almost too much for her body to handle, but their hands ground her. Bucky’s spanning her waist and Steve’s stroking up and down the leg wrapped around him, keeping her there with them. She smiles softly, her lips spreading against Steve’s skin, and she rakes her nails down his back. He hisses softly and gives her an arch look, deliberately thrusting inside her in retaliation.

 

“That how it’s going to be?” Darcy asks, attempting and failing to hold back the grin.

 

When Steve begins moving in earnest inside her as his response, it’s all Darcy can do to hold on for the ride. He fucks with the same steady and sure movements as his kisses, hard enough to make the heat build in her blood with every stroke. Sweat drips down her back; the warmth of three bodies in concert just adds to the burn. She writhes in their arms as the thrusting and stroking persist, shoulders against Bucky and breasts against Steve, and she moans, helplessly.

 

And when Bucky’s metal hand slides down between her and Steve, burning warm against her clit and his cock, Darcy’s well and truly done.

 

\----------

 

When Darcy wakes up, she’s alone in the bed. It’s not all that surprising – the boys don’t need that much sleep, and she’s always been a fan of a good lie in. But it would have been nice to wake up in someone’s arms, she thinks. She can’t dwell on it, though, not until she’s got a better handle on how things are going this morning.

 

She doesn’t know if she could take it if things go back to how they were before. Not after everything they shared.

 

Darcy finds her clothes on the floor, pulls her pajama pants and sweater back on. It’s warmer than last night, even though the fire’s long since gone out. The rain’s stopped, even though the sky is still on the grey side, and it sounds like the wind’s died down a bit too.

 

The smell of coffee wafts out of the kitchen, and she decides to head over that way. A little caffeine always makes everything clearer. She’s halfway through her first mug, leaning on the counter by the machine because she can’t be bothered to move any further away from the precious drink, when there’s a clattering of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later Steve appears, wearing sweatpants, another Henley, and looking freshly scrubbed.

 

“Morning,” she calls out, still feeling more asleep than not.

 

“Good morning,” Steve says, smiling brightly at her. He comes over to grab his own coffee, brushing up against her like there’s no sense of personal space there whatsoever. This is probably a good sign, Darcy thinks.

 

“Sleep well?” she asks as he preps his drink, sipping delicately at her own mug.

 

Steve nods, looking over at her. “Better than I have in a long time.”

 

“Good.”

 

She should say something. It’s not totally awkward in there, but silence has always unnerved Darcy to a certain degree and if there was ever a good time for words to come forth, this would be it.

 

Or, she could take a cue from Steve and just act. Worse comes to worse she’ll at least know where she stands when she’s done.

 

“Hey,” Darcy reaches out and tugs on the bottom of his shirt to pull him closer.

 

“Yeah?”

 

When Steve’s close enough, Darcy goes up on her tiptoes and kisses him softly. It doesn’t have the out of control passion that was there the night before, but there’s something equally as potent in the quietness of it. She feels him smile against her lips, the press of the rim of the coffee cup he’s still holding through her sweater, and thinks that there’s something delightfully domestic about the whole thing.

 

“Mmm,” Steve says once she pulls away. “A guy could get used to that.”

 

“Me too.” Then Darcy looks around the kitchen, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Wait, where’s Bucky? I was expecting to hear some snark there.”

 

“He’s outside on the porch. Why don’t you go join him and I’ll get him a cup of coffee?” Steve suggests, turning back to the cabinets and pulling another mug out.

 

Darcy nods. “I like that idea,” she says. She stops by the couch to grab a blanket and wrap it around her shoulders (she likes the snuggly feeling) before heading outside into the daylight.

 

The porch is small, but there’s enough room to fit a hanging bench swing out there, just to the right of the front door. Bucky’s sitting on the swing in his pajamas, bare feet propped up on the wooden railing, and a lit cigarette dangling from one hand.

 

“Good morning,” Darcy says as she slides onto the bench, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She curls up next to him and pulls the blanket tighter around her, although she’s sure to keep her coffee at easy access.

 

Bucky grins at her, takes one last pull from his cigarette, and tosses it into a flower pot that’s all dirt and no flower this time of year. “Looks like someone finally decided to join the rest of the waking world.”

 

“It’s not that late,” Darcy retorts, nudging him with her shoulder. “Besides, neither one of you look all that awake either.”

 

“Had a busy night last night, you know. Wore me out,” he says, the grin sliding over into an utterly shit-eating one.

 

“I will take that in the complimentary spirit that it’s intended,” Darcy fires back, sticking her tongue out at him. Bucky just snorts and pulls her in for a proper good morning kiss.

 

The door creaks open and Steve steps out onto the porch, two mugs in his hand. One’s handed off to Bucky, who proceeds to knock back a good slug immediately while Steve settles himself on the swing on the other side of Darcy. It’s a tight squeeze on the bench, and Darcy has the passing thought that she hopes their combined weight won’t send the whole thing crashing to the ground. That’d be a hell of a story to explain to the rental agent.

 

The three of them sit out there for a while, watching the grasses wave on the nearby hillocks or the occasional car pass them by. This is the good type of silence that’s not really silent at all. There’s the wind that rushes around the house, the sound of the ocean off in the distance, the light breathing of the three of them, the caw of a loud-mouthed gull, the small occasional clinks of the coffee mugs.

 

“We probably should talk,” Steve eventually says, eyes still focused off in the distance.

 

“Probably,” Darcy agrees, nodding.

 

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t think it needs to be that complicated.”

 

Almost as one, Steve and Darcy turn to look at him. “Elaborate, please,” Darcy says, bringing Bucky’s full attention over to them.

 

“As long as we’re open and honest with each other – none of that stoic bullshit that you usually pull, Steve, where you need to act like everything’s just fucking peachy.”

 

Darcy can tell Steve’s about to object, probably out of habit more than anything else at this point. She jabs him with her elbow, cutting off any words before they even slip out of his mouth. The sly smile Bucky gives her says that he knows the feeling.

 

“Yeah, well, same goes for you, Buck,” Steve says. “If something bothers you, you speak up about it. This won’t work if we stay quiet.”

 

She nods, and sips at her coffee as she sits back on the bench once more. “It won’t be easy,” Darcy says, “but it doesn’t have to be complicated.”

 

“And I don’t think any of us have ever been scared of a little hard work.” Bucky raises his coffee mug in a toast. “Here’s to hard work.”

 

“And new adventures.”

 

“And happy endings.”

 

They clink the mugs together, and it really does feel like something’s solidified, like all of the parts are finally right where they belong, Darcy thinks.

 

“All right, now seal it with a kiss,” she blurts out. “What?” she says to the slightly incredulous and puzzled looks the boys send her. “I’ve got the potential for my very own live action porn in front of me; you don’t think I’m not going to take advantage of the opportunity to enjoy the sight?”

 

Steve and Bucky trade a look that’s more exasperated than anything else, but at least there’s amusement there, which was the whole point of her statement. Mostly. Darcy will never pass up a chance to see them kiss.

 

This time Bucky asks first, chuckling under his breath as he shakes his head. “Get over here, punk,” he says, cupping the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him close.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you jerk,” Steve replies, just before their lips meet.

 

Darcy quite enjoys the viewpoint of being right in between the two of them and getting an up-close and personal view of the entire thing.

 

“Your turn, doll,” Bucky says, pulling away from Steve and bending down to plant one on her as well. Steve’s hand weaves through her hair, and there’s this lovely feeling of connection that settles in her bones and just makes her happy.

 

When it’s Steve’s turn to steal a kiss, Darcy can hear Bucky say right next to her, “Now, I mentioned something last night about finding a drugstore,” which makes her laugh long and loud against Steve’s smile.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my tumblr at aenariasbookshelf.tumblr.com. Drop by and say hi, or just come stare at the inspirational pictures. It's okay, that's what they're there for. :)


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